Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

Hubert was persuaded. ‘It will be, Gervase.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ said Ralph impatiently. ‘Lead the way, Hubert. I long to see this bell tower and, if possible, to view the body of the deceased.’

‘That is something I am not able to guarantee, my lord.’

‘At least, get us inside the church.’

Canon Hubert nodded confidently and left the hall, picking his way through the crowd with surprising nimbleness and towing Brother Simon behind him. Ralph went out to the sentries and sent them back to the castle with the satchels which he and Gervase had brought. The two of them then mounted their horses and ambled off in pursuit of their colleagues, noting that the streets were busier than ever and that the city smells had taken on a greater pungency. When they reached the abbey, they did not have long to wait. Hubert appeared to confirm that the abbot’s permission had been granted, and he conducted them to the church as if he were a long-standing member of the community and not merely a recent visitor. Ralph and Gervase easily tolerated his customary self-importance. Compared to Nigel the Reeve, the canon was modest and unassuming.

Shafts of sunlight shone through the windows to pierce the gloomy interior of the church and illumine the way to the bell tower. Hubert was hovering at Ralph’s elbow. Gervase could see that his friend was becoming increasingly annoyed by their colleague’s presence and he moved in tactfully before Ralph resorted to language unfit to be heard on consecrated ground.

‘Since you know the abbey so well,’ said Gervase, taking Hubert gently by the arm, ‘perhaps you could track down those two novices, Kenelm and Elaf. We will talk with them anon.’

‘Am I not needed here?’ said Hubert.

‘No!’ Ralph was blunt.

‘But I could be of assistance.’

‘Do as Gervase bids and you will be.’

Hubert’s pride was hurt. Gathering his paunch in both hands, he plodded off on his errand without a backward glance.

Ralph looked around the church to see what other exits it possessed, then he turned his attention to the ladder which led up to the loft, testing it for strength and reliability. Satisfied that it was robust enough, he turned to Gervase and took a firm grip on him.

‘What are you doing, Ralph?’ protested the other.

‘Proving something to myself.’

‘Does it involve assaulting me?’

‘Relax and have faith in your friend.’

Having secured a hold, Ralph suddenly hoisted Gervase over his shoulder and held him there with one hand as he began to climb the ladder. It was a slow and perilous ascent, leaving Gervase to stare down at a slowly receding stone floor while having no control over his limbs. The rungs of the ladder creaked ominously under the combined weight and it bent and swayed from time to time, but Ralph went purposefully on, making light of the problems. When he reached the top, he eased Gervase carefully on to his back on the wooden platform then clambered up to join him.

‘There!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I knew it. It was possible for the killer to carry his victim up here.’

‘Only if he was as strong and wilful as you, Ralph,’ said Gervase, head still pounding from the ordeal. ‘I’ll tell you this. You are certainly not going to carry me down again.’

‘It will not be necessary. I’ve proved my point.’

‘What about the dripping blood?’

‘Easily stemmed by wrapping a cloth around the victim’s neck.’

‘I remain to be convinced.’

‘Then let’s look around.’

There was not much room for two adults in the confined area.

The huge iron bell took up most of the available space, hanging silent and lifeless now but capable of rousing the whole city when rung in earnest. Light was poor but they could see far more than the two novices who had used the place as a nighttime refuge. Several bloodstains were visible on the timber and they examined them with care, noting their position and texture. For the rest, there was nothing else in the loft apart from a coil of rope, which would, in time, replace the existing bell rope, and a new stay, hewn out of ash and, judging by the one already in position to prevent the bell from turning full circle when it was rung, soon to be brought into use instead of its battered predecessor.

‘It’s far too dark up here,’ said Ralph. ‘We should have thought to bring a candle with us.’

‘We have at least established one thing,’ observed Gervase.

‘Yes, you don’t like to be carried up ladders.’

‘That, too, I grant you. No, sit down and you will see what I mean.’ Ralph lowered himself into a seated position beside Gervase. ‘It is a perfect hiding place. Even during the day it is impossible to see anyone up here if they are crouched down.’

‘Or lying full-length in their own blood.’

‘Quite.’

‘The killer knew exactly where to stow the body. Had it not been for those two boys, it might have lain undetected for much longer.’

‘Until the stink became too unbearable!’

Ralph got up and kept a steadying hand on the bell as he manoeuvred his way around to the other side of it. Even more shadow obscured his view there so he relied on touch rather than sight, feeling his way gently along each timber. The oaken beams were thick and well-seasoned and he admired the skill with which they had been chiselled into shape and shorn of their roughness. When he came to the largest beam of all, he used both hands to explore it, finding nothing untoward until he slipped them under the timber to feel the other side. His fingers met something which caused him to stop in surprise.

‘Now that’s interesting,’ he said, identifying his find.

‘What is it, Ralph?’

‘Something I didn’t expect on the back of this beam.’

‘A bird’s nest or a couple of bats?’

‘No, Gervase, these were put here by the hand of man, but for what possible purpose I can’t rightly say. Nobody would fix them on the wrong side of the beam like this.’

‘Why? What is it that you’ve found?’

‘Hooks,’ said Ralph, still fingering his discovery. ‘Two large hooks.’

Travelling with Ralph Delchard on royal business brought setbacks as well as benefits for Golde. Although she could enjoy the pleasure of her husband’s company, she also endured the discomfort of watching him plunge regularly into situations that were fraught with danger. Nor had her journeys been entirely free from personal slights and humiliations. On her first outing with Ralph, to York, she had lacked the wedding ring that made her his legitimate bride and she was, accordingly, treated as his mistress by the disapproving wife of their host.

It had caused Golde intense embarrassment and there were other places where her presence had not been wholly welcome.

After her initial meeting with the critical lady Maud, her hostess, she feared that Gloucester might be another venue where her Saxon origins aroused muted hostility or covert derision.

Golde was pleased, therefore, when Maud approached her with the offer of a guided tour of the city that afternoon. Maud was polite rather than friendly, and there was the faint sense of an effort being made, but that did not detract from the nature of the invitation. Golde willingly accepted. It would give her an opportunity both to re-acquaint herself with a city she had once visited with her father and to win over her hostess. When the two met in the bailey, horses had already been saddled for them, ostlers waited to help them mount and four soldiers were in attendance to escort them.

‘You have been here before, you say?’ recalled Maud.

‘Yes, my lady. Many years ago.’

‘You may notice some changes since then.’